Raw & Honest: The Philosophy of Professor Inukai in Blue Period

 

I first read Blue Period three years ago, but only recently picked it up again after buying the first two volumes—though, unfortunately, they are in French (huhu T_T). Revisiting the story this year gave me a fresh perspective on the characters, especially Professor Inukai, whose sparse appearances and sharp observations left a lasting impression. Even though the manga doesn’t delve deeply into his personal storyline, the glimpses we do get reveal an intriguing, uncompromising philosophy of art that is worth examining closely.

(this essay contains spoilers)

Indepth analysis of professor Inukai

Many readers see Inukai as a mysterious figure in Blue Period. The manga never fully delves into his personal storyline, but the fragments we do get are intriguing. If we pay attention to his dialogue and reactions, especially his introduction, we can piece together a clear sense of what kind of person—and what kind of artist—he is.

Inukai is introduced through food metaphors, which is fitting in a story where art is repeatedly compared to food you cannot eat. He speaks of liking raw meat and tomatoes, while disliking ketchup, Japanese-style spaghetti, and artificial sweetness. This seemingly mundane conversation reveals his aesthetic philosophy. He prizes art that is raw, unprocessed, and essential, like fresh ingredients. What he cannot stand is art that feels watered down, over-processed, standardized, or sweetened just to please the masses. His introduction immediately shows us that he prefers authenticity over polish, substance over prettiness.

This outlook surfaces again in the gallery scene. Fuji recommends Yatora to visit an artist’s exhibition, and by chance, Inukai is also there. Despite his disdain for Fuji, he later admits that he always attends the shows she recommends—an indirect acknowledgment of her value. Inukai bluntly asks the exhibiting artist which university he attended. When the artist replies that he is self-taught, Yatora finds the question rude, as if Inukai were belittling him. Yet Inukai’s response—“I see, that’s what I thought”—remains ambiguous. Was he dismissing the artist, or acknowledging the authenticity of someone who developed outside the institution? The ambiguity reflects his complexity: a man invested in the university framework, yet always probing for raw honesty wherever it appears.

Shortly after, Yatora spends two months in Fuji’s no-mark class. Though he doesn’t mention it directly before the judges, he acknowledges internally how the experience helped him face art again. Fuji’s rejection of grades and authority gives him space to recover his relationship with creating. Inukai likely knows this, and it complicates his rivalry with Fuji: though he despises her methods, her philosophy undeniably pushes students into necessary growth.

It is after this phase that Yatora produces his installation on guilt. At first, the work appears empty: a hole in the wall revealing nothing. But then the viewer’s own eye is projected outward, forcing them into a confrontation with themselves. The piece is stripped of ornament, direct, unsettling, and personal—qualities that align closely with Inukai’s philosophy. For the first time, he praises Yatora openly: “You don’t seem to care about what others think now… this is above average for an installation.” His praise is especially significant when read in sequence: from the ambiguous gallery remark, to Yatora’s growth in Fuji’s class, to this installation. Inukai, who values rawness over polish, finally sees Yatora casting aside the urge to please others and instead confronting a theme—guilt—without compromise.

the question would be if he likes raw art then why does he dislike fuji's ideals?

first, for Inukai, raw means direct confrontation, not lack of structure. Fuji’s no-mark philosophy risks producing “rawness” without discipline, which to Inukai looks like sloppiness or lack of rigor. He may fear that students under her could mistake freedom for depth.

second, Fuji removes pressure, grades, and authority, giving students breathing room. To Inukai, this might feel like a shortcut. Just as he dislikes ketchup for being a pre-processed, “easy” form of tomato, he might see Fuji’s method as making art too easy- He respects rawness earned through struggle. (his first assignment for his students was 500 drawings in 2 weeks)

Importantly, Inukai admits that Fuji’s approach is necessary. This shows he isn’t blindly authoritarian. He knows her philosophy can save students who are suffocating under institutional weight (like Yatora). But his personal belief is that freedom without discipline risks dilution.

Comparing Inukai’s Evaluations: Yatora vs. Other Students

One of the most striking aspects of Inukai’s teaching is how his evaluations differ depending on the student, revealing both his standards and what he values most in art.

Inukai’s critiques of other students emphasize shortcomings, superficiality, or lack of direction:

• “The so-called basic pieces like this are shallow and easy to understand, but it’s hard for them to leave an impression.” “So what, do you honestly think that you’re sticking to the topic?” “It feels like the traces of hard work are more prominent than the painting itself, rather than your shallow thoughts. Why don’t you focus on areas you are good at?” (these are all different comments to different students)

• The critique highlights superficiality: while the work is technically competent, it lacks depth, emotional impact, and personal risk. Inukai calls out misplaced effort and lack of conceptual focus. Labor alone doesn’t make art meaningful; it must be paired with authenticity, emotional engagement, and clarity of intent.

1. Early evaluation of Yatora:
At the beginning, Inukai challenges Yatora directly:
“Did you come all the way to Geidai University to settle things within yourself? How long are you going to do the same thing? You need to be in contact with works that move people.”

After Yatora’s growth, particularly following his installation on guilt, Inukai’s tone shifts:
“you've done well turning your extreme self consciousness regarding the views of others into something more refined.”

• Here, praise is both conceptual and personal. it’s not given lightly, showing that Yatora’s work meets the standards Inukai sets for authenticity, rawness, and disciplined execution.

2. Analysis of the difference:

• With Yatora: Inukai sees potential realized through struggle and honesty. He praises Yatora when he channels vulnerability into work that moves others.

• With others: Inukai critiques shallow effort, misaligned focus, or surface-level work. Even technically competent students can fall short if their work lacks emotional resonance or authenticity.

• The difference is not about favoritism but about alignment with his philosophy: effort, authenticity, and emotional impact. Yatora exemplifies these traits after growth, while others often fail to bridge the gap between labor and meaning.

Yatora & Inukai mirrored philosophy

One of the most compelling aspects of Inukai’s interactions with Yatora is how deeply they mirror each other. The chapter with Yotasuke’s rabbit painting being evaluated is deceptively simple, but it reveals a lot about the philosophical alignment between Inukai and Yatora. (this chapter happened before Inukai became their official teacher) When Inukai said to Yotasuke “the rabbit seems to be fond of you,” he wasn’t just describing the painting. He was pointing out how Yotasuke’s inner world leaked into the canvas, this comment mirrors Yatora's previous observation " it looks like the rabbit loves you" so why are Yatora and Inukai so similar?

The echo between Yatora’s and Inukai’s observations foreshadows their later connection. By the time Inukai begins teaching formally, Yatora is already predisposed to notice and value raw, unfiltered emotional truth in art. This foundation allows him to absorb Inukai’s guidance more fully.